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“Kate isn’t feeling well, so she asked me to go and pick out their wedding cake.” I dig my fork into my food. “Thankfully, Jessica can stay at the shop until I get back.”
Since Jessica started working, I’ve decided to take two days a week where I’ll get to sleep in—and by sleep in, I mean not wake up at the crack of dawn to be in the café baking before the shop opens. So, usually, I’d prepare everything for her the night before, and she’d come in and simply pop it into the oven. Although I’ve seen her playing around with decorating cupcakes lately, and she was actually pretty good at it.
My gaze darts toward Mom before shifting back to Chase. “Will you guys be okay here?”
“Yeah. Besides, Linda will be here soon. Go. Do what you need to do.”
CHAPTER NINE
MIGUEL
The downstairs is eerily quiet when I descend the steps the next morning. Some of the tension leaves my body, so for the first time since I came home, I allow myself to take in the small details that have changed since I’ve last been here. The new comforter, photos of my family that were taken in the time I’ve been gone, the new lamp standing in the corner of the living room next to Dad’s ugly old armchair. I still remember Mom begging Dad to throw it out before I left, but apparently, there was a line of what he would do for his wife, and tossing that old thing out would be crossing it. Still, the majority of it was the same.
Bypassing the kitchen, I enter the mud room and slip on my running shoes before heading out. It was still relatively early, just after seven, but the sun was already burning brightly in the sky, making me squint the moment I stepped outside.
A loud rumble of an engine catches my attention. The old pickup truck is still running in front of the garage. The truck was probably my dad’s age, if not older. What used to be a bright red color was now rusted, making the pickup seem maroon instead.
Just then, a man steps out of the barn, carrying a bunch ofwooden boards over his shoulder. I see the planks start to wobble, so before I can overthink it, I rush toward the person, grabbing them at the last second.
“Here, let me—”
Dad’s dark scowl meets mine over the edge of the boards. His breathing is ragged, cheeks bright red from exertion, and a droplet of sweat slides down his forehead. Neither of us says anything as I help him place the boards into the bed.
I’ve barely seen him since after breakfast yesterday. He’d been working out in the fields the whole day until it was time for dinner. The meal was tense, with Mom carrying the majority of the conversation until Dad finally got up and left the table, claiming he was tired.
Letting my arms drop, I wipe my hands against my basketball shorts. “Are you guys fixing fences? I could he—”
“We didn’t need your help the last four years while you were off playing games, and we sure as hell don’t need it now,” Dad bites out sternly. He shoots me a death glare before he turns on the balls of his feet and marches back into the barn.
My fingers curl into fists by my sides as I try to keep my temper in check. “Just a couple of weeks. Just a couple of weeks,” I repeat the words like a mantra.
I don’t know what I expected. For things to be different? Yeah, fat chances of that happening. Dad wasn’t one for change. And just because Mom wanted me to come back home didn’t mean he shared the sentiment.
Then, why let me come at all?
It made no sense.
Hearing the footsteps coming from the barn, I turn around and start jogging in the opposite direction. The last thing I wanted was to go for round two with Dad right now.
I’m not running even for a couple of minutes when the sweat starts forming on my skin, plastering my shirt to my back.I keep the pace even as my feet pound against the gravelly road. The only road that leads into Bluebonnet. It takes me a good mile before I get to the crossroads, but instead of going toward town, I make a turn toward the Santiago ranch.
I’m panting by the time the big two-story white house comes into view. A newer model Range Rover is parked in front of it, but there is nobody in sight. Slowing down, I make my way around the house.
“Well, well, well… Who do we have here? And here I thought you forgot about us.”
I turn toward the sound of the familiar southern drawl to find a small, red-haired woman standing on the back porch, her arms propped on her hips as she quirks her brow at me.
“Forgot about you?” A smile slowly spreads over my lips. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
Mrs. Santiago shakes her head and opens her arms. “Come here so I can give you a hug.”
Even though she’s standing on the porch, with three steps on me, I have to lean down so I can wrap my arms around her.
“It’s so good to see you, Miguel,” Mrs. Santiago whispers, her hands rubbing my back. “How have you been doing? When did you get back?”
Some of that tension that’s been left after my interaction with my dad seeps out of my body. Mrs. Santiago was like a second mother to me growing up, and I didn’t realize until this moment how much I’ve missed her in the years I’ve been gone.
“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. S.” I take a step back, letting my arms drop to my sides. “I’m doing fine. I just got into Bluebonnet a couple of days ago.”
